


Decisions, Decisions

by Leen_Moufti



Category: Death Road to Canada
Genre: (?) I think?, A bit of graphic violence(?) I think?, Action, Angst, Brothers, Drama, Gen, Zombie Apocolypse, Zombies, bandits, hostage for macguffin, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 10:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17896559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leen_Moufti/pseuds/Leen_Moufti
Summary: Sometimes, even in a zombie apocalypse, the most dangerous things are not zombies, but fellow humans.





	Decisions, Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the starter sentence, "Hey. Pal. I've got a gun/knife/fist/weapon and I'm not afraid to use it." from a list of protective starter sentences by user "Spattermemes" on Tumblr.

"Hey. Pal. I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Alistair's eyes widened at the sound of Thaddeus' voice. Struggling against his captor's grip, he desperately screamed for his brother.

"THADDEUS! HELP M-" He was cut off by a hand clamping over his mouth, effectively silencing his cries for help.

Thaddeus glared at the man holding onto Alistair, his teeth bared in a snarl as he pointed his shotgun at the man's head.

"Let. My. Brother. Go. Now," Thaddeus hissed, the fiery anger in his eyes loud and clear for the group of bandits in front of him to see.

Instead of letting go of Alistair, apologizing profusely, and going on their merry way, the bandits simply laughed.

The man holding onto Alistair yanked his head up by the hair, causing the younger sibling to yelp as the man spoke.

"Wow. He's your brother?" the man asked, a bemused smile on his lips. "That's just going to make things so much easier."

"What do you want?" Thaddeus spat, his voice dripping with venom.

"Simple. You two seem to be doing pretty well for the situation you're in. Give us all of your supplies."

Thaddeus froze.

Damn it, he knew they shouldn't have been lugging all that supplies around out in the open in bandit-territory.

Thaddeus was a smart man, tactically speaking. He knew when and how to do things, and when things required a lot more planning than just a few hypotheticals scrawled on a sheet of paper.

Like all men, though, he was prone to making mistakes. Stupid mistakes, that either resulted in minor inconveniences, like a lack of bullets, or dire consequences, like barely managing to survive an hour-long siege.

Or having his brother being threatened by bandits.

And sometimes, those mistakes led to even more mistakes, like his decision to ask the bandits-

"Or else what?"

Alistair's eyes widened and he let out a muffled scream as the hand holding onto his hair was moved to his neck.

"Simple," the man said again, squeezing his hand slightly. "He dies."

"NO!" Thaddeus immediately screamed at the sight, ignoring the fact that he could be attracting any nearby zombies with his yelling. "DON'T HURT HIM!"

"Then I assume that you know what to do."

Thaddeus looked at Alistair, whose terrified eyes were completely focused on the hand on his neck. The beads of sweat on his brow shone as his chest rapidly rose and fell.

"Y-You... You'd k-kill him... f-for two backpacks of supplies?" Thaddeus stuttered, trying his damnedest to stop his voice from trembling. "I-is his life really worth that?"

The bandits were silent, before they laughed again.

"Of course!" the one holding Alistair said. "In this world, supplies like yours? They're worth his life. And a lot more."

Thaddeus lowered his shotgun.

"A-and if I give you our supplies, you'll- you'll let him go?"

The man nodded, loosening his grip on Alistair's neck.

"But if I give you all of our supplies, we'll die out here!" Thaddeus pointed out.

"Well, that's not our problem, now is it?" the man casually asked, tightening his grip on Alistair's neck. "The supplies. Now."

"Okay, okay! I'll give you our stuff!" Thaddeus yelled, prompting the man to let go of Alistair's neck, and let him breathe again.

Thaddeus dashed to the tent he had set up a few feet away, and rummaged through it until he got his hands on two backpacks, filled to the brim with medical supplies, two gasoline cans, food, and ammunition.

Dragging the backpacks behind him as he walked back out of the tent, he could see Alistair still struggling in his captor's grip, while the bandits all looked at him with a satisfied smirk on each of their faces.

What he also saw was a horde of zombies, not too far away, approaching them.

Shakily, he handed over the first backpack to one of the bandits, his heart beating the slowest it ever had as he kept his eye on the horde.

Before he could give the other backpack, he said, "Give me back Alistair, and then I'll give you the second backpack."

The man holding Alistair glared.

"No. Give us the second backpack first."

Thaddeus shook his head, raising his shotgun.

"We're not screwing around, boy. Give us. The backpack. Now."

Again, Thaddeus shook his head, and he aimed his shotgun at the man's head.

"You really want your brother to die, don't you?" the man chided.

"'Course not," Thaddeus said, as he closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.

After pointing the shotgun up into the sky.

The bandits raised an eyebrow, and Alistair's captor snickered.

"You missed."

Thaddeus dropped his shotgun to the ground, and gripped the second backpack's strap tightly.

"No, I didn't. You do remember what zombies are attracted to, right?"

The bandits gasped, as the man growled, "You little piece of- AAAGH!!!"

Alistair was dropped to the ground as a zombie sunk its teeth into his captor's neck, digging into his flesh as he screamed in pure agony.

That one zombie was only one of dozens, and soon, the bandits were overrun by the undead, screaming as their flesh was ripped into.

Alistair felt his arm being grabbed, and almost screamed before he saw that it was only Thaddeus, who whacked a zombie in the face with the remaining backpack as he yanked Alistair off of the ground.

"To the car, to the car!" Thaddeus yelled, as he and Alistair ran for their lives to their car.

Fumbling with the keys, Thaddeus unlocked the car door and shoved Alistair into it, slamming the door behind him as he himself got in, narrowly avoiding getting bitten by a zombie.

Shoving the keys into the ignition, he slammed his foot on the pedal, and they sped off, running over who-knew-how-many zombies in the process.

 

Thaddeus sighed as he stopped the car and looked to his right.

In the passenger seat, using an old jacket for a blanket, was Alistair, fast asleep, his chest slowly rising and falling.

Poor guy, Thaddeus thought.

Bandits were a common obstacle that they had to deal with, but never had Thaddeus expected that they would go so far as to threaten to kill Alistair for the sake of supplies.

It had taken forever for Thaddeus to even get Alistair to stop sobbing and profusely apologizing for losing half of their supplies, and then calm him down after he was nearly killed.

God, Thaddeus hated this world.

He hated having to continuously run for their lives, praying that they wouldn't be ambushed by the undead while they were sleeping.

But it would all be over soon.

All they had to do was get to Canada, and they would be safe.

Taking out a scrap of paper and a pencil from his pocket, Thaddeus scribbled a few calculations, before writing something at the bottom of the paper.

**_Two more driving days until Canada._ **


End file.
